


Blood Dripping From Every Shining Facet

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Body Horror, Gen, Medical Abuse, Mind the Tags, Spoilers for Episode 49 of Campaign 2, Whump, hurt with some comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: Bren knew, of course, how certain crystals, cut in a particular fashion, could store magical energy or even amplify it to some degree. At the Academy many of the professors had worn pendants or earrings or rings that could produce various magical effects. But this was something new. Something different.





	Blood Dripping From Every Shining Facet

“This will make you stronger,” Master Ikithon said as he strapped Bren to one of the same tables they used to torture dissidents. His arms were stretched out to either side, wrists secured by manacles. He had never thought he’d ever be on this side of the table, eyes fixed on the ceiling so he didn’t have to look at the tray that was next to him, not that he needed to look again to remember its contents. A basin of water. Cloths. Disinfectant. A scalpel. A vial of healing potion. Thirty-six crystals, each about the length and width of the fingernail of his smallest finger. Nine and nine and nine and nine.

Bren knew, of course, how certain crystals, cut in a particular fashion, could store magical energy or even amplify it to some degree. At the Academy many of the professors had worn pendants or earrings or rings that could produce various magical effects. But this was something new. Something different. Bren had been chosen to be the first subject for the implementation of Master Ikithon’s latest theory, that crystals implanted in the flesh of a practitioner of arcane magic might have even more capability to boost the power and duration of spells.

It was a mark of favor to have been chosen first, and Bren felt pride warm him even as his heart pounded, even as he had to work to keep from shaking. This was a test. Everything Master Ikithon did was a test. Strength would be rewarded. Weakness would be punished.

The disinfectant was cool against his skin, the smell sharp in his nose, but not as sharp as the blade that pressed against him.

“We will begin,” Master Ikithon said, and that was all the warning Bren received before he bore down on the blade.

Bren winced and tried not to tense up. Tensing only made the pain worse, a lesson he had learned and relearned under Master Ikithon’s hands, just like he had learned how to hold his concentration on a spell while having his fingers broken, or while his head had swam with a concussion. Not even being run through with a sword could break Bren’s focus. It was the same for Astrid and Wulf as well. A warmage of the Empire could not let pain stop them, after all. So Bren took a shaky breath and tried to relax into the pain. He could do this. He could. He focused on the ceiling above him as the scalpel clinked against the tray, as blood slowly began to spill from the wound, as it was wiped away with a wet cloth.

The pain was tolerable, bearable, familiar even. The feeling of the crystal being inserted into his arm was foreign and _wrong_ in a way Bren couldn’t articulate, just that it made him feel sick and panicky. His stomach lurched and the only thing that kept him from vomiting was the fact that his stomach was empty, dinner last night and breakfast that morning skipped at Master Ikithon’s insistence. He instinctively tried to pull away from the sensation and was ashamed to hear himself whine like a dog being beaten.

“Bren.” Master Ikithon’s voice was as sharp as the crack of a whip. “If you cannot control yourself, I will be forced to control you instead. Do you understand?”

Bren nodded, tears of shame pricking at his eyes.

Master Ikithon’s face came into view, eyes narrowed and mouth downturned in displeasure. “Use your words, Bren.”

“Yes sir,” Bren whispered, making eye contact, forcing himself to see his teacher’s disappointment. “I understand sir.”

“Good.”

The scalpel again, the pain again. The nauseating feeling of the crystal entering him, sliding under the surface of his skin. Again. Again. If it had only been pain, maybe he could have been lulled by the repetition of it, but instead it was all he could do to hold himself still, to not whine, to not scream. He couldn’t help the tears of pain that spilled down his cheeks, or the shame he felt from them, but he made no sound as Master Ikithon worked his will upon Bren’s flesh.

“I know I ask a lot of you,” Master Ikithon said as he sliced into Bren’s arm for the fifth time. “Not just you, but Astrid and Eodwulf as well. Do you know why that is?”

“Y-yes sir,” Bren replied, wishing that he could be left in silence. Words weren’t a distraction, they were an anchor keeping him more in the moment than he wanted to be. At least what Master Ikithon had asked him was something he already knew, an answer long ago learned by rote. It was the same thing Master Ikithon always told them during training and during punishments. “We need to be strong, to rise above pain and suffering, to be better than our fellows, better than the common folk who labor underneath us. We need to be the strong, firm hand of guidance that the people crave.”

“That is correct.” Maser Ikithon wiped away the blood from the fifth incision, slipping the crystal inside, then Bren felt a hand supporting his head, the glass lip of the potion vial against his mouth. “Drink.”

Bren gratefully took a swallow from the vial, feeling the warmth spread down his throat. He expected the pain from his arm to fade as the wounds healed, and wasn’t prepared for the agony he felt as his flesh healed around the crystals in his arm. He screamed for only a second before he clamped his jaw shut against the sound so hard that he bit his tongue, blood filling his mouth.

Master Ikithon prodded at Bren’s arm forcefully, feeling for the crystals beneath his skin. “I was afraid that the healing potion would possibly force the crystals out of you and undo my work. I would have had to start over. That doesn’t seem to be the case, however.”

Bren swallowed a mouthful of his own blood and was thankful for small mercies as Master Ikithon picked up the scalpel once more.

It was hours later when the straps were undone. Bren went to sit up and the world tilted, going gray along the edges. Bren forced himself to sit up straight, drinking the last of the healing potion when Master Ikithon handed it to him. His nerve endings felt ragged and raw, and his arms ached all the way down to the bone.

“You may have the rest of the day to yourself,” Master Ikithon said as he cleaned the scalpel. “I shall see you tomorrow morning for training as usual.”

“Thank you sir,” Bren whispered, genuinely surprised. At the most he had expected to be excused from afternoon lessons. To be excused from evening ones as well was an unexpected windfall.

“You need your rest. Expect to be put through your paces tomorrow.”

_Like a horse_ , Bren thought, but he was too exhausted for resentment. “Thank you sir. I look forward to it, sir.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. Bren did feel excited about the prospect of possibly gaining new power, and of pleasing his teacher.

“Tell Astrid and Eodwulf I will meet them in the training yard in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes sir.”

There were twelve stairs from the basement to the door, and Bren counted each one as he ascended them, willing himself not to collapse. He was not surprised to see both Astrid and Eodwulf waiting for him at the kitchen table, Astrid’s short hair fluffed out as it tended to when she ran her hands through it nervously, Wulf staring at a book that he was studying. They both looked up when they heard Bren close the basement door, then practically knocked over their chairs in their rush to get to him as his knees buckled.

“Bren?” Astrid’s voice sounded tinny and far away, even though Bren could feel her supporting him on one side, helping him stand. “Are you all right? Wulf, get him some water.”

“I am fine,” Bren whispered. “He wants to see both of you in the yard in fifteen minutes.” He took a step towards the stairs that lead to their small, shared bedroom, leaning heavily on Astrid as the world swayed under him.

“You are _not_ fine,” Astrid said, her voice sounding raw.

“I just need to lie down.” Bren took another step, unable to stop himself from shaking. It was all right now. Master Ikithon wasn’t there to see his weakness. “I am tired.”

Wulf returned with a cup of water, and it was all Bren could do not to gulp it down in three swallows. It would do him no good if he choked on it. “Thank you.”

“How bad was it?” Wulf asked as he supported Bren’s other side. Together they all slowly walked up the stairs with an ease born of repetition. Sometimes it was Astrid in the middle, or Wulf, but usually it was Bren. Master Ikithon was always the hardest on Bren, because Bren would be their leader. Bren, the brightest burning flame.

“It—it—“ Bren’s throat worked, his lips formed words, but there was no sound, none at all. He closed his mouth and shook his head.

Their room was small, three beds in a neat row, three desks to study at, one chest of drawers for all their clothes, a bookshelf. No personal belongings of any sort. Master Ikithon believed that all a mage needed was their books, and parchment and ink. Bren all but fell onto the bed, belatedly realizing that his shoes were still on. He went to take them off and hissed in pain as his arms throbbed.

“Relax,” Wulf said, and Bren sagged against the mattress and closed his eyes as Wulf removed his shoes. Oh how he wished Master Ikithon would let him have a familiar. It would have been nice to have something soft to hold. He missed his cat back at home. He missed his family.

“We’ll bring you something to eat, after lessons,” Astrid said, and Bren felt the blankets being drawn up over him. “Just rest.”

Bren didn’t have much of a choice. He slept like a dead thing, waking up just long enough to eat before falling asleep again. He woke once more when he felt someone sit down on the edge of the bed, then there was a hand running through his short hair.

“He is going to be the death of you one day,” Astrid whispered.

Bren didn’t open his eyes, but he shook his head. “No. He is making me strong. Making _us_ strong. You’ll see.” It made him nervous when Astrid and Wulf said those sorts of things. It was dangerous. If Master Trent knew they had doubts, well, they all knew what happened to traitors.

**********

Bren stood in the training yard waiting for Master Ikithon with Astrid and Wulf, vibrating with energy. Literally. His arms no longer ached, and the crystals hummed under his skin. Bren could faintly see the outline of them under his skin as they softly glowed, a gentle flickering red. It was disturbing and amazing all at once.

Wulf poked him in the arm. “I can feel them,” he said. “Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore. It almost feels… good, I guess. Or at least, not bad.”

“He’s coming!” Astrid hissed, and the three of them stood at attention as Master Ikithon strode into the yard, heading directly for Bren.

Bren held out both of his arms for inspection without being prompted, holding still as Master Ikithon prodded at him with a lot less gentleness than Wulf had. “Yes, they’re resonating quite nicely,” Master Ikithon said. “Just as I had hoped.” He sounded pleased as he let go of Bren’s arms and stepped away from him. “A simple cantrip to start with.”

“Yes sir.” Bren turned and faced a target that he knew to be about a hundred feet away, his hands moving in a pattern that was a simple as breathing. He was used to his power running through him like a stream, and so he was unprepared when instead it poured through his arm like a river at full flood. The firebolt left his hand at a speed and ferocity that he could have only dreamed of, utterly destroying the target and continuing to fly another fifty feet or so before dissipating.

Master Ikithon was not the sort of person who smiled, unless he was at a social function and it was required of him to do so. He did however give Bren a slow nod, a sign of high praise.

“That was a very admirable start.”

Practice continued. Bren’s spray of colors was brighter, blinding Astrid and Wulf for longer than the usual six seconds. His magic missiles were larger and flew farther, as did his scorching rays. His burning sphere was several feet larger than he had ever managed before, and burned almost twice as hot. Most surprising of all, he had enough energy available to him to cast one more spell than he usually could, exceeding what would have been his limit the day before. The effort left him tired and with a bit of a headache, but that was all.

“You have done well,” Master Ikithon said, resting his hand on Bren’s shoulder a moment before turning to Astrid and Wulf. “Whoever draws first blood against the other will be the next to be improved.”

There was no hesitation as both mages moved into defensive positions and began casting, partially because both of them wanted to prove themselves, and partially because they both knew what the penalty for hesitation was.

Astrid was the next to go under the knife, her crystals glowing faintly green as her poison spray became more deadly, her words more persuasive and charming. Wulf’s own crystals glowed the bluish-white of snow at twilight, and his control over ice and darkness became even more profound. Master Ikithon seemed pleased with the results of his experiment, but two weeks later he called Bren into his study.

Bren stepped beyond the threshold, closing the door behind him before walking to the center of the room, waiting, hands behind his back. “Sir?”

Master Ikithon reached into the drawer of his desk and pulled out a pouch, tipping out the contents. Eighteen crystals clattered faintly against the wood, each about as large as the first two joints of his smallest finger.

“Tomorrow morning,” Master Ikithon said. “We shall see if the three of you can be made even greater.”

**************

Bren didn’t know what was worse, the pain or the fact that he couldn’t hear himself scream, magic having taken away all sound from around him. He had tried to stop screaming, he had, and not even Master Ikithon’s admonishment or the stinging blow he had delivered had stopped the sound. Tears rolled down Bren’s bruised cheek as the scalpel bit into his flesh again, as another crystal was inserted into the wound left behind, deeper than the first set had been. This time there was no sips of healing potion in between, further punishment for his weakness, and Bren had taken the vial from Master Ikithon at the end with eighteen wounds bleeding onto the floor. The pain as the flesh healed around the crystals this time made the last time seem like a skinned knee in comparison.

“Send Astrid in next,” Master Ikithon said after he dismissed his spell of silence with a gesture. “And let us hope that she holds her composure better than you did. That was a disgraceful display.”

“Don’t scream,” Bren whispered hoarsely to Astrid and Wulf when he had reached the safety of the kitchen, his aching arms curled against his chest. “Whatever you do, don’t scream.”

That night the three students pushed their beds together, a small rebellion, and held each other with arms that burned with agony, their heads aching with the discordant sound of the crystals struggling to find resonance with each other.

************

“Again.”

Bren lifted his shaking hands, seeing Astrid and Wulf beside him doing the same. It had been three days, and the sound of the crystals had not smoothed out in the slightest for the three of them. If anything the sound had gotten worse, had turned into a whine that made their eyes water and their teeth buzz, filling their heads with a sickening pain that made it almost impossible to sleep. Wulf had tried to bring the matter up with Master Ikithon and all that had gotten the three of them was extra practice time to strengthen their will and control along with a lecture on enduring hardship for the good of the Empire.

Bren felt the power building in his mind, in his arms, in his blood, waiting to be released as he moved his fingers in a familiar gesture, as he nearly shouted the words over the whine in his head that seemed to only be growing louder and louder and louder—

There was a sound in Bren’s head not unlike an expensive goblet shattering and Bren gave a full throated scream as he fell to his knees, arcane energy crawling under his skin like lightning. There were shards of crystal sticking out of his arms, blood running down the facets. He could hear the others screaming beside him, Astrid clutching her head and retching, Wulf tearing at the shards in his flesh.

“Take them out!” Bren screamed, staring up at Master Ikithon, his vision gone blurry with tears and pain. “Take them out!”

Master Ikithon looked down at his students for a moment before frowning and lifting his hand, saying a word.

Darkness descended as consciousness fled.

*************

“I misjudged the strength of your will.” Master Ikithon said, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Perhaps I should have experimented on more seasoned mages. In a few years maybe we will try it with you again. Still, the time and effort wasn’t completely wasted, I suppose.”

Bren bowed his head in shame, staring at his arms, bandages covering them from wrist to elbow, hiding the incisions that had been made to remove some of the deeper pieces of shattered crystal from their flesh. The broken crystals had released their stored energy all at once, causing both physical and mental damage. Trying to cast anything beyond their most basic spells caused the three of them to experience searing, blinding agony, a side effect that Master Ikithon assured them would most likely fade within a few weeks as long as they did not overtax themselves by using magic in the meantime.

“Eyes on me, Bren.”

Bren looked up, his hands moving to scratch absently at his bandages before Master Ikithon stopped him with a look.

“I have decided to send the three of you back home to your families for a short time to convalesce. After all, once you graduate, you will have very little time to visit them. I expect you to keep up with your reading while you are away, and you will be tested once you return. You will, of course, hide your injuries from your family and say nothing about your training or this failed experiment.”

“Yes, Master Ikithon,” the three students intoned.

“I also expect you to keep an ear out for any talk of rebellion. There are dissidents everywhere these days, and corruption must be rooted out, no matter the source. There will be a carriage here within the hour. Be packed and downstairs by then. You are dismissed.”

“It’ll be good to see my Mother and Father again,” Astrid said as they walked through the kitchen, but she sounded as miserable as Bren felt.

“Yeah,” Wulf said. “It’ll be nice, to have a vacation.” Wulf was trying to sound cheerful, but Bren knew it was false. Every single one of them felt like a failure, the trip a temporary exile.

It would be fine once they were back home among their families again, Bren was sure. He would keep an ear out for rebellion, as Master Ikithon had bid him, but he didn’t expect to hear anything, not really, not in their peaceful town and especially not in his own house. He sighed and put an aching arm around each of his friend’s shoulders as together they made their way up the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> It was *very* hard not to type "Caleb" instead of "Bren," let me tell you, and in fact I failed on several occasions. I think I got them all though! 
> 
> I do have a follow-up fic with Caleb and Caduceus partially written, but work and my brain are both being particularly taxing this week. I originally meant to have both of these finished today. Hopefully the other fic will be up by the weekend!
> 
> I'm angel-ascending over on Tumblr and angel_in_ink on Twitter if y'all want to stop by and say hi!


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